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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25318945">This Is New</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer/pseuds/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer'>Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>This Isn't Child's Play Anymore [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Child's Play/Chucky (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Andy and Chucky are kinda friends?, Basically Chucky cannot handle the sight of blood anymore, Chucky gets a new body, Chucky has hemophobia, Drug Use, Enemies to Friends, Frenemies, Gen, Hemophobia, Marijuana, Smoking, blood mention, blood phobia, ish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:08:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,942</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25318945</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer/pseuds/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The doll leans himself back on his hands, watching as Andy sticks the joint in his mouth for another drag, and he only speaks up again when he's finished. "What're you playing at here, asshole?"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andy Barclay &amp; Chucky | Charles Lee Ray</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>This Isn't Child's Play Anymore [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193075</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>This Is New</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"No funny business," Andy warns, and Chucky smiles up at him in response.</p><p>"No funny business," he repeats firmly, making sure to keep that beaming, innocent grin on his face just to let Andy know he intends on staying true to this. He's not sure why Andy believes he'd really try anything at this point; they both know what Andy can do to him, and Chucky knows Andy's aware that even if Chucky did want to, he probably wouldn't be able to lift a knife against him. He wouldn't be able to do anything that would involve making the boy bleed, and strangling him just wasn't an option - being a doll made that a hell of a lot harder. But even then, even if he could, Chucky still doesn't want to. And he doesn't have an explanation for it, he just doesn't want to. He's long given up on trying to figure out why. He's moved onto bigger things.</p><p>Andy lets him transfer his soul into another doll, and Chucky could just about pass out from the amount of relief he feels. He hadn't realized he'd been in so much pain in that damn, torn-up head - but now, in a new, fresh vessel, he finds himself aching even then. But the ache isn't one of pain. Rather, it's more so the absence of it. The loss leaves him weaker than he would have liked. But even so, he finds himself with both eyes wide open, with his hands pushing him to sit up and Andy standing a good few feet away with his hand clenched around a pistol, narrowed eyes never leaving the doll. He still doesn't give much of a response to the boy; the smile is somewhat permanent now, plastic features pulled into a permanent grin. And it would stay that way for some time, until gradually taking on a more <em>human</em> appearance the longer Chucky spends in the body. Somehow, the idea of Andy not being able to hurt him like this brings an odd sense of relief, but it's not the kind of relief that screams 'great, I can't be hurt, let's kill him'.</p><p>"Well?" He addresses the boy, forcing the plastic smile into a more genuine looking one, to properly express the gratification he's feeling. A flicker of amusement passes over Andy's features, the corners of his lips quirking upwards into a smile of his own. Chucky doesn't look back down at the gun - he's unconcerned, he knows Andy won't shoot him unless he tries something, and the doll just… simply doesn't plan on doing so anyway. "How do I look, huh?"</p><p>"Better," Andy confesses, and he smiles at Chucky then, like he's greeting a long-lost friend. Despite himself, the doll is left oddly speechless by the expression on his face - it's not quite one of warmth, but there's definitely something there that he can't read, and it's, oddly enough, not as malicious as Chucky would have expected. He pushes himself to stand up on the table, and pretends Andy's shoulders don't twitch and jerk as he moves. Even so, the man doesn't lift the gun against him. It seems to be more for his own sense of security than to actually use against Chucky himself, which speaks volumes of how much trust is being put in him now. He knows Andy doesn't understand <em>why </em>Chucky finds it difficult to <em>adjust </em>to the sight of blood these days, but maybe the fact that the doll genuinely seems to be unable to is somewhat reassuring.</p><p>Still, he knows he's meant to be a prisoner. Even if Andy won't use that gun on him now, he knows the man won't hesitate to if he thinks Chucky's getting too comfortable. So, he sits himself back down on the edge of the table now and lets his legs swing over the side of it, placing his hands on either side of him to prop himself up. "Yeah. I <em>feel</em> better, too," he admits.</p><p>Andy smiles at him, almost looking patient, and Chucky feels a trickle of fear crawl down his spine despite himself as he manages to smile back at him, somewhat hesitantly.</p><p>"Good." To Chucky's surprise, Andy turns away from him; the gun is placed down carefully on Andy's desk as he approaches it, in favor of pulling open one of the drawers. Chucky knows, logically, if he felt like running, he could go ahead and do so. The door was right there - if he was sneaky enough, and fast enough, he could get up and get out and they'd continue the game of chase they had. This time, though, he figured Andy might be the one doing the chasing - it had always been Chucky, Chucky on his trail, Chucky hunting him down, Chucky, the predator. But, in a game of tag, no one person ever stays 'it' the whole time, right? He should've known it was only a matter of time before Andy got sick of being the one that got chased.</p><p>He stares at the door and wonders if any kind of freedom is worth it, knowing Andy's on his trail. Or even… even if any kind of freedom is worth it, knowing Andy's still out there somewhere. He hates to admit it, but the kid'll always be on his mind no matter what he does. It had always been like that, and now it's even worse. Now he knows things about Andy that he hadn't counted on knowing before - things that scare him a little more than he wants to admit.</p><p>He's just not sure if he fears the man, or fears for him.</p><p>The doll is snapped from his thoughts, rather abruptly at that, when he hears a drawer slamming shut; he flinches despite himself as he turns his gaze away from the door, looking up at Andy instead. The man is oddly quiet now, and the forced smile on his face had melted into a neutral expression while he was turned away. Chucky finds himself somewhat mourning the loss. He doesn't like seeing the blank, dead-inside stare that Andy gives him most of the time, but you'd think he'd be used to it by now. Sometimes, every so often, he'll see what he thinks might be a flicker of real emotion; he'll see something genuine, and something inside of him will soar with hope before it crashes down when he asks himself if it's real, or if it's just what he wants to see.</p><p>Chucky sighs to himself, and if Andy hears, he doesn't comment. He walks over, a joint in his mouth now. It's lit, but there isn't a lighter in sight - the doll supposes Andy doesn't hold enough trust for him yet to allow him near any dangerous items, and fire is a big no-no, since the man had read up on the incident with Jesse and Jade. He smiles a little despite himself, if only at first. That had certainly been a night to remember. The whole thing had been a night to remember… but his stomach twists anyway, as fond as he is of the memory. He's more or less resigned himself to the fact that things are different now, and he's never going to feel the same way about the stunts he had pulled, and the things he had done. He's never going to feel the same way about blood, or even murder, for that matter. It's always gonna leave a bitter taste in his mouth and a nauseous feeling in his gut. But it still hurts to realize how much has changed.</p><p>He doesn't look up as the joint is offered to him, and he's only slightly confused at first before he realizes that he can hold it now; so he reaches up to take it carefully, eyebrows furrowing.</p><p>Andy lets him, sitting back in his chair and scooting closer to the edge of the table where Chucky sits. Not too close, but close enough to be able to pass the joint back and forth; Chucky keeps quiet, taking a long drag from the joint and handing it back over to the man as he exhales a rush of smoke. And he groans - because it almost feels better than when he was just a head. He catches a quiet chuckle from Andy as the man takes a hit, and neither of them speak.</p><p>They stay like this for a while, sharing a joint in a somewhat comfortable silence. It's typical for them now, but not like this; Chucky has so many questions, and he just can't stay quiet.</p><p>"Alright," he sighs as he fiddles with the joint between his fingers, and Andy looks up. "I know about the whole 'don't look a gift horse' in the mouth thing, but- <em>shit</em>, Barclay, I'm a little on edge." At this confession, Andy arches an eyebrow and almost smiles; something glitters in his eyes, but it's not an emotion Chucky can place right then, and it's not really something he wants to. He grimaces a little as he meets the boy's gaze, and finally takes another hit; Andy's silent, now leaning over the table with his arms crossed over it, but he lifts a hand to take the joint when Chucky offers it back to him. The doll leans himself back on his hands, watching as Andy sticks the joint in his mouth for another drag, and he only speaks up again when he's finished. "What're you playing at here, asshole?"</p><p>The emotion is gone. Andy peers at him through those lifeless eyes again, but he still smiles. Chucky seems to have caught him off guard, somehow, because he's oddly quiet now; the doll almost dared to say he looked contemplative, but even he can't tell, before Andy takes another drag and offers him the joint, exhaling a puff of smoke in Chucky's direction. He leans back and scowls at the kid as he takes the joint back, but he doesn't say anything, waiting for an answer.</p><p>Andy doesn't seem to have one.</p><p>Instead, the man drums his fingers over the table while Chucky takes a hit. When the joint is offered back to him, he waves a hand and pushes himself to stand suddenly enough to make the doll flinch - and if Andy notices this, he doesn't say anything. "I'm gonna get some food."</p><p>"What?" Chucky can't keep himself from blurting the question out, along with the high-pitched, nasal cackle he hadn't offered in so long. It's one of genuine amusement, something he'd found himself rather lacking in. But he falls silent when Andy's expression shifts, not expecting to see the flicker of amusement that crosses his own face as well, and certainly not expecting for the boy to offer a quiet laugh along with him as he pushes the chair against the table again. "You're just gonna- do you really trust me not to leave?" He's incredulous. Is the kid stupid?</p><p>"Sure," Andy offers, and the glance he flicks toward his gun display is subtle, but Chucky catches it anyway. He tenses, and Andy smiles down at him again before he turns away.</p><p>He leaves, and Chucky takes another hit from the joint, somewhat perplexed.</p><p>"This is new," he breathes aloud to the empty room, exhaling a plume of smoke in the process. He lets himself sink back, eyes drifting shut for a moment, and crosses his arms over his chest. The joint rests between his fingers, where it'll stay, unmoving and unused, until Andy returns. He feels too sick to smoke.</p><p><em>This is new, </em>he thinks, and anxiety has practically made its home in the pit of his stomach.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I might continue this...</p></blockquote></div></div>
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